


Mass Effect/Saints Row: Weeping Reapers and Saintly Sinners

by Ergo_Prologue



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy, Saints Row
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Renegade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ergo_Prologue/pseuds/Ergo_Prologue
Summary: So you know how Earther Shepard got tangled up with gangs? What if it was the Saints? And what if in Mass Effect 2, Shepard never woke up? Bingo-bango, now we’ve got a story on our hands.Madam President takes on Commander Shepard’s role against the Collectors, causing chaos, debauchery, shenanigans, and general tom foolery. Miranda is at her wit’s end, but eventually realizes something about the Boss. You don’t want her to get serious, because when she does... she gets scary.And what starts as a game, quickly becomes something grimmer than any reaper.
Kudos: 23





	1. Discount Shepard

The Illusive Man was patient.

To an extant.

Miranda had turned up short in reviving Commander Shepard. She was intact, her body restored to its former state, better than before. Shepard was perfect now. Shepard was also perfectly comatose. Nothing could wake her.

They watched the broiling star in front of them. It was a churning and pulsing creature of light. Miranda stood by, waiting in the dark. She was there to report the failure and possible solutions. Again. They both knew none of them would work.

“It’s been two years,” said The Illusive Man. “We’re running out of time, Ms. Lawson.”

“I know,” whispered Miranda.

“And I don’t mean us, I mean humanity,” he went on. He took a drag on his cigar and sighed, “We need her now. More than ever, and in whatever condition we can get.”

“I’m working as fast I can. She just needs-” begged Miranda as she stepped closer to him but he held up a hand. He leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression and tapped his cigar over the ash tray on the handle of his seat.

“You recall Shepard’s past on Earth,” said The Illusive Man. He waited. It was her turn to speak. Miranda didn’t like this game, but she supposed that was just a part of his nature.

“Orphan, raised on the streets, got involved with gangs, joined the military to get away from it,” she listed off quickly, hoping to get to the point.

“And what is it about Shepard that made me start the Lazarus Project,” he prodded. That was a sore spot for Miranda. It was her own shortcomings staring her in the face. She hated the lack of faith he had in her. As well as the lack of faith she had in herself. 

“She’s one of a kind; ruthless, charismatic, and unapologetically human. She’s a force the Reapers can never anticipate,” said Miranda. “They’re scared of her.”

“But is she really one of a kind?” asked The Illusive Man. He brought up a hologram with Shepard’s dossier. A mugshot of her younger self sporting a busted nose and a black eye. Just below the dip in her collarbone was a small tattoo that she later had removed. A purple fleur-de-lis. An old symbol for the Catholic Church, which had been taken and reinvented by a most unhinged group of criminal outcasts. 

“She had a mentor, Ms. Lawson. Someone back on Earth. Someone even more grossly human. Someone even more...”

He lingered on the word, smiling as he said it.

“Chaotic.”

“You’re not serious,” balked Miranda. “That maniac’s completely out of control, there’s no way she could get the mission done.”

“She would if she wants her crew back; loyal to a terrifying fault, that one. She’ll come around,” chuckled The Illusive Man. “I believe you have a prison break to plan, Ms. Lawson.”

Miranda, speechless, turned to leave.

“Oh, and Ms. Lawson,” he called. She stopped, waiting, as he took a long drag on his cigar. He breathed out a plume of smoke and said, “I believe she goes by the title, ‘Madam President’ these days.”


	2. Warden’s New Groove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda needs to get Boss out of prison to save humanity. When she arrives at the prison, she is taken immediately to see the warden who has an interesting taste in music and interior decor.

It wasn’t very often that Miranda got to visit Earth, and even then it was to the upper crust of skyscrapers and pent houses. As the taxi flew further down into the depths of the city it became progressively darker and the buildings shorter. Like the Amazon rainforest, thought Miranda, the undergrowth battling and choking each other for a spot of sunlight. When they reached the bottom, it was like stepping back in time before the Alliance was born. Dirt, filth, and concrete; there was the sound of something constantly skittering away. The taxi wouldn’t take her further in and left her behind as soon as she got out.

Miranda was glad she didn’t wear her white uniform, but the common floor length dress she wore was beyond too rich for this crowd. They stared with wide eyes as she walked down the street. They were cloaked in rotting clothes and clashing styles decades apart. There was a ripple as the crowd gave her a wide berth. She was no easy mark, they could see it in her stride. She passed easily through, arriving at one of the few remaining old school prisons; Stillwater Penitentiary. It still bore the city’s old name, but the building had changed with time. It had expanded beyond its island, stretching all the way to the mainland like a sprawling prison metropolis. The back half soaked in the sun, just bumped out enough from the coast to outrun the shadows of towers.

She thought it would be difficult to get in, but the guards were so incredibly amused by her appearance that they automatically took her to the warden. The halls of the prison were neater than its surrounding city. As she walked past, she got the impression there was a tight sense of order among the prisoners as they walked freely between their jobs or activities. It was a calm place. She supposed a hardened criminal might even call it nice. If she had to pick, she might prefer living here than the city outside.

When she arrived at the warden’s office, it was all the way back in the original building. She could could hear the beat of music though the wall. The guards took to either side of the double doors and opened them. Confused, she walked into the office. 

The song playing was an upbeat tune that was familiar to her but also unplaceable.

‘See how the sun shines brightly in the city. On the streets where once was pity. Mr. Blue Sky is living here today, heeeeey hey!’

From floor to ceiling it was decked out in various shades of purple. It was a grand room, modeled on the Whitehouse’s Oval Office of old. There was a gracious amount of sunlight spilling into the room from a glass dome skylight above with shiny purple metal lattice. Miranda was stunned as she walked into the light. It was nice and warm on her back as she approached the desk; it had a large purple pleather upholstered chair behind with its back turned to her, looking out at windows towards the glittering sea beyond. The song shifted gears, keeping just the beat. As the chair swiveled slowly around, a gruff feminine voice joined in with the song.

“Mr. Blue Sky! Tell us why! You had to hiiiide away! For soooo long. Soooo long!” the chair revealed a most bizarre woman in an old fashioned purple men’s suit; the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt and purple tie underneath. She had a wide grin that she dropped when she saw Miranda.

“Who are you?” she asked. 

Miranda failed to answer, too distracted by the woman’s appearance. The structure of her face wasn’t that odd; full lips, a hooked squashed Slavic nose, and sleepy eyes with long lashes. Her cheeks were marred with pink pock mark scars and a single scar that ran from cheekbone to cheekbone across her nose. It made her look charming in a rougish way. Her long hair had bangs cut into them with two sections of mid length hair that framed her jawline on either side that she recognized as a hime haircut. The princess look softened the woman’s face, giving her a strange elegance. None of this is what made Miranda speechless. It was the fact that her hair and skin were whiter than egg shells but her eyes were completely pitch black. The woman turned off the music with a clap.

“Take a seat,” said not-the-warden. Miranda felt a chair scoot into her legs and she dropped down into it. It was lined with crushed purple velvet. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was there to push the chair.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stranger,” said the albino creature, raising her arms to gesture at the office. She plopped them down on the arms of her chair and settled back into her seat, putting her legs up on the table. “You may address me as Madam President.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played Saints Row 4 first, then 1, 2, and 3. I went ham with the character creator and tried to recreate the look for each game. No easy task. 
> 
> I’ll do my best to capture the fun spirit of Boss! I hope you enjoy~
> 
> Song is Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra


	3. Deal or No Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. Miranda’s got something the Boss wants.

“Where’s the warden?” asked Miranda, still not processing what she was seeing.

“OoOoo, an Aussie, we don’t get many of those around here,” said the president. “Are you a reporter? I’ve been meaning to put my life story to paper, make sure my legend stays alive. Should I start with the boat explosion? I feel like that’s when I really became the person I am today.”

“What? No,” said Miranda, shaking her head to clear it. The president hummed and tapped her chin, “You’re right, I should start with the gang initiation when I got canonized. We were just the Third Street Saints back then.” She put her hands up to her cheeks, pleased as punch. “That’s when I met Johnny Gat, now there’s a legend if I’ve ever met one. You should write about him, instead.”

Before Miranda could object, the president got up from her chair and went over to the right wall where a giant portrait with a tacky gold frame was hung. She put her hand up to the frame, not daring to touch the extremely detailed painting of a man with slicked back hair and sunglasses. 

“His death was so sudden,” she whispered. She turned back, sniffling, and said, “He died the way he lived; kicking ass.”

“He isn’t the first friend you’ve lost,” said Miranda, hoping to segue into why she was there. 

“That’s true, not all of them were lost while hijacking a plane full of kinky gangsters. God bless, he was too awesome for this world,” said the president wistfully. She kissed the tip of her fingers and lightly brushed them against the portrait’s cheek. She left the painting with a sigh and went back to her desk. She propped herself against the hardwood front instead of returning to her seat, crossing her arms and looking down at Miranda.

“But all three, Lin, Carlos, and Johnny, were killed by rival gangs. Do you know the names of those gangs?” asked the president.

“I... don’t recall,” said Miranda.

“Exactly,” said the president, leaning forward with a wolffish grin. Her black eyes were shiny and intense as they bore into Miranda. “I tore them apart and made them eat their own skin. I erased them from existence itself.”

The president eased herself back slowly, eyes still staring into Miranda’s, “I’ve lost three people, but do you now how many gangs I’ve taken out?”

“Three?” ventured Miranda. The president tilted her head back and cackled. Miranda frowned at her, not seeing what was funny. Eventually she composed herself and she wiped one her eyes with a finger, catching her breath between chuckles. 

“That’s a good one,” she said. “But no.” Her expression shifted to something unreadable, made all the more unnerving by her appearance. “Nine, so far. Ten, if you include that corporate dickbag who tried to step on my turf.” She cocked her head to the side, sporting a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope you didn’t come here to tell me you’re the new big fish in town. You’re very pretty, I’d hate to have to kill you. Or worse.”

“I have a job for you,” said Miranda, unbothered. She’d met plenty of people filled with bravado and empty threats. This creature was no different.

“I’m not for hire,” said the president sweetly. “Keep your cash, spend it on something nice for yourself.”

“What if my payment isn’t money?” asked Miranda. The president raised her eyebrows but shook her head, saying, “I know I said you were pretty, but you’re a little too uptight for me.”

“Not like that,” scoffed Miranda. “Seems like you have control of things here, but where’s your crew?”

The president’s smile twitched.

“They’re not here because you have no idea where on Earth they could be,” gloated Miranda.

“What are you suggesting?” asked the president, smile lowering into something like a sneer.

“The organization I operate under has a far reach, fingers in many pies-”

“Sexy,” said the president.

“-and we know where they are; Shaundi, Pierce, and Kinzie,” continued Miranda. “We even have a lamb you lost from your flock.”

The president did not like that. She was steely and unmoving, her mouth twisting into a snarl.

“The job is what you do best,” said Miranda sweetly. “Take out a rival gang of sorts.” Miranda stood from her seat and planted her hands down on the desk on either side of the president. She leaned forward and tilted her head to the side, letting her black hair fall onto the jacket of the purple suit. With only an inch between their noses, Miranda asked, breathily with a mocking smile, “What do you say, Madam President?”

“You’re a bitch,” was the creature’s response through gritted teeth. Then her face grew into the biggest grin she’d worn yet, black eyes wide open and sparkling. “And so am I. You’ve got a deal.”


	4. Two for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transfer the Saint to a different prison in space for free shipping! Very crafty of Miranda until Warden Kuril thinks he can jack up the price.

It was pretty easy to convince the prison board to transfer “Madam President” to an off planet prison. Miranda had contacted a company here and a celebrity there, growing the president’s reputation just enough to be a threat. And so, the president’s influence had begun to spread beyond Stillwater via commercial means, much to the board’s horror. One sponsorship away from getting a Saints energy drink, she was loaded up into a cryo-box and shipped to a little prison floating in the midnight sky called Purgatory.

A quaint facility run by the Bluesuns, Miranda arrived at the ship as a customer for Cerberus. This time she was sporting the job’s colors. The Illusive Man had purchased a powerful biotic named Jack that she would also be picking up. Two birds, one stone. The security greeted her with raised guns. 

“Welcome to the Purgatory, Ms. Lawson, you’re packages are being prepped and you can claim them shortly. As this is a high security vessel, you’ll need to relinquish your weapons before we proceed.”

She twirled for them with her hands reaching up, stretching and then sighing as she let her arms fall to her sides. Her bodysuit was skintight. She flashed a smile and asked, “What’s the trouble boys, can’t you see I’m unarmed?” 

The security guards were at a loss for words. Another armored turian came in from beyond the prison through the first gate, saying, “Everyone stand down. Ms. Lawson, I am Warden Kuril and this is my ship. Your weapons will be returned on the way out. This is just standard procedure.”

“What weapons are you referring to?” she asked. Kuril scowled at her and walked down the steps, two guards following after him as he approached her.

“You really expect me to believe Cerberus plays by the rules,” he scoffed. She bent down, touching the tips of her boots. She slid her hands up her shins, around her knees, in between her thighs, along her belly and-

“That’s enough,” said the warden, holding up a hand. “We get it, there’s nothing that can fit in there.” Miranda stopped cupping her breasts and gave him an innocent smile. He turned around to his men and said, “Besides, our facility is more than secure enough to handle one armed guest anyway.”

Miranda followed after him as he receded back into the prison, a little skip in her step. He talked without looking at her, confident she was harmless. He went on his spiel, almost bored, “We’re bringing Jack out of cryo. As soon as the funds clear, you can be on your way. We’ll just head over to processing.” 

“And my other package?”

“Just arrived, hasn’t even seen the inside of a cell yet.”

Miranda looked out through the windows towards the rows and rows of cells. Boxed in like animals. An apt comparison given the ship used to carry livestock to colonies. Not at all the positive quiet of Stillwater Penitentiary. She was surprised by the president’s presence having a calming effect. Maybe she let the prisoners blow off steam somehow to keep them placid. 

They rounded a bend to see a cell that was placed up close to the gangway. A human prisoner was being beaten by one of the guards. Miranda wondered what his offense could have been when they were so restricted. What rules did they have room to break? Maybe it was just to be cruel. 

“I’m curious about your second purchase, Ms. Lawson,” stated Kuril. This time he looked over his shoulder at her. Miranda raised her eyebrows.

“She’s registered as Jane Doe, but I hear that’s a name given to the nameless in human culture. She appears to be a small time criminal in comparison to Jack,” he added. “What’s so special about her?”

“Her taste in decor, perhaps,” mused Miranda. The turian half laughed, unconvinced, “Sure. Right this way.” He led her into a sterile room with guards at each exit. A cell door was lined up to an access point to the right. The door opened and it was empty inside. She pursed her lips.

“You have an odd sense of humor, Warden Kuril,” said Miranda. A guard peeled away from the exit behind them and grabbed her arm. She let him, teasing him with a flirty look that caused him to loosen his grip.

“We just want to take a peak at this Jane Doe. Reevaluate how we priced her,” admitted the warden. “I hope you understand.”

“I do,” she said and placed her free hand on the chest of the guard ‘restraining’ her. “So long as someone keeps me company. I’d hate to be all alone in there.” The warden rolled his eyes and waved a hand, turning his back. 

“Do as you please, just get in the cell,” he said as he left the room.

The guard gently pulled her towards the opening. She leaned in to whisper, “Hey, speaking of which; you wanna take a peak?” The guard slowed down, his helmet swiveling to look at her. She teased at the fold where her suit could be opened. He made an unintelligible sound. With a demure smile, she unbuttoned to reveal the top of her cleavage. And a black tube thing with a hilt. 

“You like it?” she asked, pulling it out for him to see. He titled his head to the side, confused, and asked, “What is it?” 

She giggled, like he said something silly, and whispered, “A prototype, it’s an add on for my omni tool.” Then she clicked the button on top. Nothing happened. She pouted and shrugged, “It takes a second to warm up.”

“But what-” the guard didn’t get to finish his question as hot orange blade of light went straight through his visor. She pulled the pistol off his hip with her free hand and shot the guard at the door she came in. Then she whipped around and shot at the two guards ahead of her. She got one in the head and the other dove away, firing at her. The bullets beat uselessly against the bright blue barrier that engulfed her. She pulled out the sword, running for the surviving guard as he scrambled for the door. It opened just as she thrust the glowing sword into the soft fold under his helmet and then kicked his body down. 

“Lady’s first,” she sneered and stepped over his corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe “weaponized thickness” is the term. Miranda’s sexiness is such a cornerstone of her design, but she never uses it or gets to have agency in expressing her sexuality. She was made to be ogled, not to be someone who is sexy, and I think that’s a shame. In a way, her design contradicts her desire to be a leader that’s taken seriously for her intellect and generally seems disconnected from her body and her attractiveness. The game objectifies her so strongly I found it difficult to talk or relate to her (When they literally fill half the frame with just her butt, oh my gawd).  
> But you can be smart AND sexy! Use your hotness to destroy the patriarchy, hell yeah!


	5. A Dangerous Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuril gets to meet Madam President! :D

Kuril looked at the cryo-box curiously as it was unsealed. His men waited on the sidelines behind him as they all observed the cell. It was ready to be blown out the airlock should its occupant prove too dangerous. He highly doubted Jane Doe could do any real damage. On a cosmic scale, she was barely more than a low level gangster. Without weapons or gang members she was powerless. A cold cloud of moisture cascaded out of the box, chilling the floor with an ankle high fog. He could feel the cold through the glass. The lid slid back and a white arm reached upwards, producing another plume of fog. 

As she slowly sat up, the glass became frosted and cloudy. He squinted to see her as she rose from cryo. She stretched with a satisfied moan and stepped out of the box. White as snow and completely naked. She was lean with muscle, almost flat chested in comparison to Miranda. Black eyes blinked and peered at him as she floated up to the glass, pressing her pink hands against it. The ice crackled as it grew to frame her face, a wide grin in place. 

“Are you human?” he asked, stunned. Her head tilted to the side, eyes blank. He made sure the intercom was on.

“Do you not have a translator?” he asked. She squinted at him, tilting her head to the other side. Guess not. She must be from one of the human world’s isolated clusters. He pointed at her and said, “Jane Doe.”

She laughed and shrugged. She bumped her forehead against the glass, black eyes wide and big.

“Are you a Turian?” she asked. He nodded and pointed at himself, saying, “Kuril.”

“Kuril,” she repeated, feeling the syllables on her tongue. He thought for a bit and offered the name, “Miranda Lawson?”

Confusion. He could see a twitch of movement in her eyes, like she was looking upwards, lost in thought. An ‘aha’ expression.

“Is she the bitch?” she asked. Kuril chuckled and nodded. She waved her arms at the room around her, “Is this space prison?”

He nodded.

“Miranda is supposed to pick me up,” she added. Kuril shrugged and she frowned. 

“Will you let me out?” she asked and he shook his head. She gave him a tired look and sighed. She pressed herself against the glass.

“Send me back home, then,” she said. Kuril cocked his head to the side. He tsked and turned to leave.

“Send me back home,” she hissed again. He waved back at her without looking. He heard her bang her fists on the glass. 

“You can’t keep me in here!” she shouted. “Let me out or I’ll kill you! All of you!” He chuckled to himself as he walked away, her fists pounding away at the glass. Perhaps it was her connections that made her valuable. Connections with who, he couldn’t fathom. Maybe she would be held for ransom? Or used to expose someone else’s past? He wondered how much he could get out of Ms. Lawson for her. The door from the cargo bay shifted open and he was going to step on through until he heard a crack.

He turned around. Her eyes bore into him from across the cargo bay as she backed up in the cell. Then she charged and threw herself against the glass. Another crack spiderwebbed across the glass front. She backed up for another charge, a mad toothy smile splitting her face. 

“Space her!” he ordered. “Space her now!”

As one of his underlings reached for the button on the command console, she threw her full weight against the glass wall and it shattered. The back end of the cell opened, sucking out the cryo-box into space as well as the ghostly woman with her shards of glass. Kuril and his men started getting pulled in. They engaged the magnetic boot locks, helmets sealing their heads, and waited for the emergency systems to kick in. 

The airlock resealed, silencing the torrents and whistles of air escaping. Relieved, the guards laughed and patted each other on the back, some making fun of the few that cowered the most. Kuril was disappointed he couldn’t drive up the price for Jane Doe anymore. Maybe he could sell her body? He walked in closer towards the cell. There was still glass attached to the metal frame. What a strange person. He expected that kind of strength from a krogan, not a human made of snow. He heard a strange sound. Like metal being tapped on. He looked back towards the airlock. Had that dent always been there?

He walked further in, stepping gingerly. He could feel the icy floor through his boots. He put up a hand up to the dent, feeling it. It was small. Must’ve been from a small meteorite or space trash. Then another dent popped in next to it. This one bulged towards him. He was about to comm his pilot when he looked at the metal more closely. It had the imprint of human knuckles on it.

“That can’t be right,” he mumbled.

The next dent in the metal hit him in the face. He fell back on the floor. With a grunt he looked back up at the metal door, rubbing his mandible. Guards started inching towards the cell. The next hit ripped through the metal completely, a bloodied hand reaching in. A few men behind him screamed. The hand pulled out, sucking the air out of the room. After a moment, two hands appeared at the edge of the hole, fingers digging into the metal. That’s when she started ripping the airlock open.

Kuril couldn’t help himself. He also screamed.

__________________

Miranda was almost bored as she drifted around the prison. Would no one check up their dead teammates? There was so little interference. She heard guards running to her position, the clank of their boots echoing off the metal floor. She sighed, dropped to the floor, arranging herself to hide the sword hilt and pistol, and screamed. The platoon came sprinting in. They only gave her a glance as two of their team split off to inspect her. The rest ran past into a different junction ahead towards the cargo bay. Interesting.

“Are you alright, Miss?” asked the guard that crouched down. The second stood with his back towards them, keeping watch. She whimpered and curled in tighter to herself, her hair a curtain in front of her face. He leaned in, letting go of his gun to push her hair back. She smiled dreamily up at him.

“My hero,” she said and put her hand on top of his. He tried to retract his hand, but was frozen in place. A blue energy crawled all over him. She put an arm around his shoulders and used him as an anchor to pull herself closer for a hug. He barley made a sound as the blade slowly sunk into his throat. She flicked the blade off, putting it between her knees, and shrieked.

The other guard looked down to see Miranda with her hand of her mouth, her other hand reaching for him. His teammate was crouched down but then collapsed forward onto her lap. He bent down to look, but stopped halfway. He was confused why he couldn’t move. His eyes shifted over and he saw the human’s hand on his arm. He was glowing blue all over. Then he saw the bright orange blade right before it plunged into his neck.


	6. Back Together!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and the boss team up! But they don’t really need to?

Miranda followed after the platoon to the cargo bay door. She could hear rapid rounds of gunfire and shouting just behind the door, but it didn’t open for her automatically. She got out her omni tool. It was acting sluggish from misuse, so her hacking program kept crashing. She sighed and manually hacked it herself. The shouts turned into screams, gunfire turned into explosions, and then the chaos turned into silence. Finally the door opened, revealing a scattering of bodies at the entrance. Further in it was dark, shadows forming around the abused cargo. 

Miranda stepped in, pulling out her pistol and activating her biotic shield. Her glow was bright enough to look around. Bodies and bodies and bodies. There must have been a mutiny by the looks of it. She heard some rustling and spun around, pistol up. Pale skin and black eyes.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Miranda. The saint had put on an orange jumpsuit with the legs rolled up, her naked feet looking bizarrely out of place. “Couldn’t find shoes?”

“Weren’t my style,” she shrugged. “I like your suit. Must be uncomfortable, though.”

“How so?”

“Cuz it gives you a mad wedgie, that shit is tight,” she laughed. She looked at Miranda’s pistol and frowned. “Hold on, I want a gun, too.”

Miranda lowered her pistol and walked back towards the door. 

“Pick up whatever you want from the floor,” she said. “There’s more than enough to go around. Do you know what happened here?”

“I happened,” said the president absently as she crawled over the bodies, combing for the best weapons. She pulled a shotgun free and looked pleased. Miranda rolled her eyes and waited by the door, internally counting the seconds. The president came running up, smiling.

“Are we leaving?” 

“Not yet, I have another package to pick up,” sighed Miranda as she started walking again. The president skipped along beside her, cooing, “OoOooo, who is it?”

“Your new best friend, I suspect.”

“Don’t tease me like that,” said the president as she put a hand over her heart, pouting. “I’ve been so lonely.”

If Miranda rolled her eyes any harder, they’d roll out of her eye sockets. The president’s persona was beyond grating. She scowled when the intercom came on.

“We don’t want any trouble, we’ll leave and you can have the ship.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows and looked at the president. She was fiddling with her shotgun, even going so far as to look down the barrel like the idiot she was. Miranda squinted at her, but replied to the intercom, “I don’t want your ship, I want my prisoner.” 

“She’s in holding block C.”

“She?” asked the president and Miranda shushed her.

The intercom continued, “No one’s going to stop you from leaving and we won’t tell anyone you were here. Please, just leave us alone.”

“Fine,” said Miranda, disturbed. She didn’t think her omni tool blade was all that frightening, but surely the president hadn’t cleared out so many enemies with only her bare hands. She cast a look over her shoulder as she made her way towards the holding block. 

“What actually happened back there?”

Another shrug from the president as she said, “I did what I do best.”

“And that means you did... what, exactly?”

“Trade secret,” she whispered with a wink. Ugh. Miranda didn’t ask anymore questions. They got to the holding block without any interference. There was a control room over looking the hold. No cell in sight, but there seemed to be some sort of installation with fog coming out of it. Must be a cryo chamber. She looked around the switchboard, trying to figure out their system. Asking the crew for help would just be inviting trouble. If she could get it right they could just load Jack up and be on their merry way. Her omni tool wasn’t helping, though. She turned it off and started pressing buttons to bring up menu screens that didn’t have much effect. This was going to take forever.

“What does this do?” asked the president as she pulled a lever. Miranda blinked as the emergency warning blared. A cylinder rose up from the floor, revealing a half naked tattooed convict. As she started to come to, she screamed and ripped apart the contraption holding her. Once she broke free, she jumped to the ground, biotic charged at the door that connected the holding block to elsewhere below, and promptly ripped through the damn thing.

Miranda stared blankly at the empty cryo chamber as the sound of shredding metal continued further into the station. Explosions, gun fire, screaming. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it, exhaled slowly, and whispered, “So fucking stupid.”

“Aw,” the president patted her on the back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I was lucky to get it on the first try.”

Miranda wanted to smash the president’s face through the window, but that wouldn’t be productive. She opened her eyes and smiled. 

“You’re right,” she said. “You are very lucky.”


	7. Jack Meets “Jane”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

They followed after the biotic’s carnage, the president picking up more shotguns along the way. She eventually had a full bouquet of guns in her arms. Miranda closed and locked what doors she could to avoid having the prisoners run amok. Nice and tidy, an organized riot. She wanted the ship to stay intact so they could leave easily. Eventually, Jack slowed down at the docking bay, absolutely demolishing two guards by throwing them around like dolls. She took one look at the Cerberus logo on the Normandy and proceeded to lose her shit. Which is why Miranda wanted her incapacitated in the first place, there was no way to control Jack. All Miranda had was a pistol and an idiot with too many shotguns. 

Miranda took out a guard that was creeping up on Jack with three tight shots. She turned around, ready to tear someone’s rib cage open. Miranda put her on pause with a stasis, a weak one that she could break out of easily. Jack sneered as she got free, but she did settle down enough to talk.

“What the hell do you want?” she asked. 

Miranda frowned and gestured at the body, “I saved your life, you could be a little grateful.”

“He was already dead, he just didn’t know it. Now, what the hell do you want?”

“I want you to come with me.”

Jack snorted, “I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re Cerberus.” The president went up to Miranda’s side, another shotgun added to her collection.

“Why does that matter?” she asked. Jack was startled by the sudden ghostly prisoner and accidentally answered.

“They’ve been on my ass for years, every time I get free, they put a huge bounty on me.” 

The president looked at Miranda with a tsk, “Now why would you do that?”

“She’s destroyed Cerberus property and killed Cerberus people,” Miranda replied gravely. “Hence the bounty.”

Jack pointed at her, “You die first.” 

“Whoa, hey! Slow down,” said the president with a chuckle. “I’m offering to be your friend! Here.” She stepped forward, bare feet slapping against the metal grating. Jack tensed up but this didn’t slow her down. She presented her arrangement of shotguns with a wide open smile. “I’m the one that let you out. Was it nice to stretch your legs? Cryo made my body super stiff, so I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Miranda shot the president a glare, but she only smiled back over her shoulder. Jack tentatively reached out and took the bundle of guns, looking down at the rolled up legs of the jumpsuit. 

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Your new best friend, if you’d like,” said the president. She picked a gun off the pile. “Does this one suit your grip more, or-” she picked up another one “-this one? I don’t recognize the models, so I can’t say which one’s the best.” They were all common models, whoever the pale lady was, she must’ve been living under a rock most her life. Or been in prison since birth. Maybe that was why she was so pale.

Jack scanned over what she was holding thoughtfully. She started dropping guns to the floor, “These ones jam when biotic fields warp around them. These backfire if you fire too rapidly, but have a further range, I always get up close, though. And this one’s kickback isn’t too bad, but the spray is narrow.” She held that one out for the president. “A good beginner shotgun.”

The president accepted it gratefully and whispered, “I’ve never been great with guns, thank you.” Jack took a shotgun for herself and checked the chamber. 

“You, I don’t mind,” she said and the president gasped, amazed. Jack nodded towards Miranda. “Her, I’m gonna rip apart.”

Miranda scoffed, “Really?” 

“You show up in a Cerberus frigate to take me away somewhere, you think I’m stupid? I’m not going with you.”

“This place is about to fall apart and I’ve got the only way out,” said Miranda. With a strained smile, she added, “I’m offering to take you with me. I’d hate to have to knock you out.”

“I’d like to see you try,” hissed Jack and started towards her. The president blocked her and pouted at Miranda.

“Come on, Randy,” cut in the president. “We’re not going to fight her.” She turned back to Jack. “We’re not going to fight you.” She put her shotgun under her left arm and held up her right hand, pinky up. “I’m working with Cerberus so they’ll give me my gang back. Is there something you want? They’ll get it for you, promise.”

Jack made a face, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She looked over at Miranda. “I bet your ship’s got a lot of Cerberus databases, I wanna look at those files, see what Cerberus’s got on me. Let me do that and I’ll join your team.”

“Sure,” said the president. Miranda blanched, “You’re not authorized to do that!” The president dropped her expression, back rigid, and slowly turned to look over at Miranda. Her black eyes were hollow, like she snuffed out all the stars she carried in her smile.

“You want her to help take down a rival gang? You give her something in return,” she said in a low steady voice. “Fair is fair. You haven’t earned her loyalty, so you have to pay for it. Unless you want your throat slit in your sleep.”

Miranda grimaced. That was a fair point. Ugh, fair is fair. She sighed.

“Fine, but whatever information you dig up stays on the Normandy.”

“You better be straight up with me,” growled Jack. The president bounced her right hand up and down, pinky still out. 

“I’m vouching for Randy, if she does either of us dirty...” the president leaned in closer, eyes wider than her hungry sharklike grin. “You’ll be the first to know.” The her eyes squished as a genuine smile pushed up her cheeks. “Pinky swear.” 

Jack unsniffed air out of her nose, a microscopic laugh, “You’re crazy.”

“Hey, that’s a cool nickname, I like it,” said the president. She sighed, “Randy won’t even call me Madam, let alone President.” 

“Wow, you’re wack as shit. Fuck it, sure thing, Crazy,” she said and locked pinkies, much to the president’s delight. She smirked at Miranda. “Why the hell are we standing here? Let’s go, Randy.”

“It’s Miranda,” she corrected acidly and left for the Normandy’s terminal. Jack followed after. Crazy was one step behind, hugging her shotgun to her chest and pleased as punch.


	8. Probe Launched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for dumb shenanigans!  
> Or is it?

"Hey, what does this do?"

Miranda was about to lose it yet again. That was just her new normal these days. They'd gotten back onto the _Normandy_ alright, but it didn't take long for the two criminals to make themselves at home. They were garishly out of place in the clean, bright, and pristine interior of the most advanced ship humanity had ever built. Jack was laughing as Crazy (Madam President, Boss, Playa, Pain in the Arse, whatever) flitted between the different controls on the bridge, leaning over the shoulders of seats to ask the operators banal questions. It was jarringly childish, and Miranda did her best to ignore the slapping of bare feet across the stainless steal flooring as she advanced towards the yeoman. 

"Kelly," she muttered. "Any messages?"

"No, mam," Kelly stood on her tiptoes to see past her, holding a data pad to her chest. "Is that-?"

"Yes," Miranda cut in. "Yes it is."

Then, distantly from behind, "OoOooOo! And this?... A probe launcher! What for?... Minerals? That's lame."

Miranda rolled her eyes and snatched the data pad, "You can babysit. I'll take over communications." She started off towards the elevator, heels click clacking with an echo. "I'll be in my office. If you need me-" she turned around at the opening doors to cast an icy glare. "Don't."

Kelly saluted, "Yes, mam!"

Ah yes, order. Rank. File. System. Organization. Just as she had groomed it to be and how it was meant to be. Miranda almost smiled. Almost. Because just ahead, Crazy ousted an operator from their seat and started slamming the controls. EDI said over the intercom, "Probe launched."

And again, "Probe launched."

And again, "Probe launched."

And again, "Probe laun-"

"Stop," Miranda skittered forward. "Stop! STOP!"

"Probe launched."

" **I SAID STOP**!" she chucked the data pad and- the arc it made? _Magnifique_. It dove straight into the center part of Crazy's hair. Right on the tippy top of her head. The little dink noise it made was satisfying. Crazy popped out of her seat.

"Ow!" she innocently nursed the top of her head. Jack laughed harder. Miranda sighed.

"Probe launched."

She choked and looked up at the ceiling, even though EDI was technically everywhere, "What do you mean 'probe launched'?"

"Probe launched."

"Fuck!" she strutted fast over to the station and gave Crazy a nasty biotic push. She flew backwards towards the pilot but Jack caught her mid air with her own biotics. 

"Watch it, cheerleader!" scolded Jack, but Miranda didn't care. 

"Probe launched."

She assessed the console and brought up the recent commands. While Crazy was no longer pushing the button, she had pressed it a good fifty times.

"Probe launched."

What they were experiencing was the delay between command input and machine output. She quickly wrote in the override (which she could have said out loud to EDI but then everyone would know the override and she would have to change the override and she couldn't change the override without first going through the Illusive Man and he was very busy and she also did NOT want him to know about this). 

"Probe launched."

" **WHAT?** " Miranda felt her soul leave her body. EDI kindly explained, "The verbal alert happens after the mechanical action has occurred, Ms. Lawson. You spelled the override incorrectly."

There was a lapse of horribly embarrassed silence.

"Then why did you stop launching probes?" asked Miranda.

"Because we are now out of probes."

"Oh. My. Fff-" she spun on her heel with her arm stretched out and pointing. "You absolute **moron**! You _utter_ buffoon! You **_complete idiot_**!"

Crazy was stumbling a bit as Jack held her up. Having two biotic forces act on your body can be rather nauseating. Case in point: Crazy burped up some black goo. She touched her chin where it dribbled down from and looked at her fingers in awe. 

"That can't be good," she chuckled. 

Jack let go, "Gross!" shoving poor Crazy onto Miranda.

Crazy landed with an _oof_. When she fell backwards a few steps, she got to see the smear of black on Miranda's uniform. "That one," she held up a finger. "That one's not my fault."

"And the ten probes you just wasted?" asked Miranda with what could have passed for a smile from a krogan. 

Crazy considered it for a moment. Then she nodded, impressed, "I lost count. Good on you, Ms. Lawson!"

Miranda's smile softened into something more human, "Why thank you. You're banned from the bridge forever and will be confined to your room until further notice."

Crazy was about to protest when-

"Hey, uh, Lawson?" called Joker from the cockpit. "You're gonna wanna look at this."

Miranda took a deep breath, maintaining that smile with sheer need for a semblance of sophistication. She grabbed Crazy by the arm as she passed and dragged her up front. She stumbled to a halt once she saw the view. _Purgatory_? It was looking pretty bad when they got on the _Normandy_. Now? It was ripped to shreds and imploding. Compartments were still folding in on themselves before their very eyes. A flare of fire streamed out the other end of the ship and dissipated. Then it broke off. Miranda couldn't... compute. She looked at Joker and he looked back at her. Not at her at her. Just to the side of her. Miranda turned her head to see that Crazy was calmly pleased. Her expression was so mild, it hinted at no sense of surprise or shock. Her closed lipped smile tugged at the corner to reveal her teeth.

"Oops," drawled Crazy. Then she leaned close to Miranda's ear and whispered, "No witnesses allowed." Then she leaned back, rocking on her feet, and held out her hands with wrists together. Loudly, she said, "I know, I know. I've been a bad girl. You can take me to my quarters now." She pouted, but Miranda could see the smile lingering underneath like the top of a shark's fin. "I won't fight you," she added coyly. _Yet_ , heard Miranda in her head. 


End file.
